


To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

by Castillon02



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: During Skyfall, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: Moneypenny always strives to be the best. Shooting 007 doesn't fit into that plan. Luckily, she's good at recalibrating.(Or, why does Moneypenny choose not to return to fieldwork?)





	To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

**Author's Note:**

> For Characters of Color Day during the MI6 Cafe's 007 Fest.

Moneypenny’s always been a high achiever. She had parents and a Nan who could afford to pay for horse-riding lessons and after-school tutors, and she sucked up any instruction like a sponge, determined to excel. In secondary school, she earned top-notch grades while dominating fencing and volleyball competitions. In uni she did intramurals and led multiple social clubs, including the Polyglot Association that she co-founded with her first girlfriend. 

It’s primarily due to her Nan’s influence that Eve emphasizes hard work and improvement rather than instant perfection. “Talent is only a foundation you can build on,” her Nan said. “You’ve got to work hard to create the rest of your house.” 

Eve has always wanted to be The Best, but her Nan helps her stay unafraid to try new things and make mistakes in her pursuit of perfection. She flourishes like lavender in the summertime. 

Eve’s determination to be the best makes her a great agent recruit after uni. Eventually, it makes her a great agent, fullstop. 

It also makes her shoot Bond off a bridge, because she knows exactly what someone who is The Best needs to do in a tits-up situation like the one in Turkey, and that’s follow orders from the higher-ups. There’s an official decision-making flowchart and she has it memorized. 

The best agent would take the bloody shot. So she does. She has to. 

Her hands are steady, her eyes are clear, her marks on the range are excellent…but the train is moving, Bond is moving, and Patrice is moving. She misses. 

Six’s real best agent (the one who’s got more successes to his name than any agent living, even if he’s got a list of casualties and property damage a mile long right underneath) gets shot off a bridge. By her. 

*** 

Moneypenny’s suspended from field duty, which she doesn’t mind in the least. She needs time to reflect, and any agents she worked with in the field wouldn’t trust her anyway. 

She attends Bond’s funeral and ponders the weight of death on her hands. Is she bothered by it? 

Yes, but not debilitatingly. An agent who’s the best is bound to get blood on her hands sometime. She regrets that her first kill was friendly fire, though. That her bullet kept Bond from future successful missions. That it kept Bond from smiling that quick smile at her again. 

***

She serves in myriad support roles around the building, essentially interning for different departments. It’s meant to be a punishment, she thinks. But she’s learning how Six’s anatomy fits together: the muscles and bones of the everyday workings, the lifestream of loyalty underpinning it all. 

She has options. She doesn’t have to be the Best Field Agent. She could be the Best Handler, the Best Interpreter, the Best Analyst. She could even be the Best Field Agent Wrangler in the medical department, if she wanted. All valuable professions. 

But Eve’s never run from anything before, and she’s not about to let field work become her first bogeyman. 

“I’ll be going back out in the field,” she tells M firmly, when M asks her about it. 

There’s understanding in M’s eyes. “Fine,” she says. “But I’ve got one more assignment for you first. You’re to assist Gareth Mallory in his attempt to take my job.” 

“…Yes, marm,” Eve says, which is what everyone says to M if they have good sense. 

Eve’s not sure what kind of message M wants to send, saddling Mallory with an agent more renowned for her friendly fire than for anything else, but Mallory doesn’t mention it, just puts her to work. 

Like every other job she’s had, Eve does her best. Was M counting on that? 

*** 

Bond’s got no hard feelings when he comes back. Not really. “Only four ribs, some of the less vital organs. Nothing major.” It’s sarcastic and sincere all at once. 

His grace is unexpected, but it shouldn’t have been. It’s the kind of response that the best agents need to have. Professionalism. Understanding. 

It solidifies a conclusion she’s been on the brink of reaching for a while: she hadn’t acted wrongly in Istanbul. M, in giving the order to shoot, had made a mistake. 

Maybe it isn’t a bad thing that Mallory’s transitioning in. New blood for a new age. Still, M had been (still is) a bloody good leader. If Eve could be half the leader she was, she’d be—

Hmm. Well, what would she be? 

***

She goes back into the field. She proves her capabilities to herself, to Bond, to M, to Mallory, to every fellow agent or callow recruit who’d made remarks about girls belonging behind a desk. 

“It’s not for everyone.” 

Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean it’s not for her. She can be trusted with a razor. She can be trusted with a gun. She can be trusted with an escape plan. She can be trusted to have an agent’s back. 

She’s a great field agent. 

So why isn’t she satisfied? 

*** 

She gets Mallory to safety, and seeing the gleam of blood on his shirt, the determined straightness of his spine despite the injury, she realizes that being the best field agent isn’t enough. 

She’s got her foundation, but she doesn’t just want to build her own house anymore. 

She wants to help Mallory construct his, to help him become the M they need. 

She wants to help Bond and Q grow theirs, to help them survive this debacle and thrive, old and new dogs working together. 

She wants to steady those wobbling departments she visited, to encourage the strong ones to keep working hard, to influence those who would benefit from change. She wants to patrol the halls and know that they’re hers. 

One day, after Mallory, she’s going be the one giving the order to take the shot…or not. 

There’s a certain power in wielding a gun. It’s a limited power. She’s going to become the best bricklayer instead, with words as her mortar and people as her bricks. 

The old MI6 fortress is gone, and there’s a new one that needs building. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
